


One in the Same

by Dot_adsty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mainly Angelina/George with a bit of Hinny and Romione, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29856231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dot_adsty/pseuds/Dot_adsty
Summary: An exploration of Angelina and George's life after the war. How do two friends, brought together by grief, grow their relationship into a romance?
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/George Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1. The High Highs and the Very Lows

**Author's Note:**

> This is predominantly a George/Angelina fic (do they have a couple name?) with a touch of Romione and Hinny. My main ship is Romiome, and I will be writing more of them, but there is so much freedom with this couple that I couldn't resist. Plus, there doesn't seem to be much written about them. When you can't find what you want to read you write it! I have taken freedoms with the characters (slutty bi Fred, anyone?), though it is still cannon. 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~Dot

_This_. This was a new low for Angelina. Sure, she had made mistakes in the past. She had experienced lows (in truth, she thought it couldn't have gotten worse than three days earlier). But this was about as pathetic as she had ever felt; crying in the middle of a shag. With a random muggle bloke which she had picked up at a pub, no less. He didn't even seem to notice that she was in the middle of a crisis. Tosser.

He finally finished, plopping his full body weight onto her. If only she could shimmy out from under him, then she could escape this purgatory. He moved off of her, whispering something along the lines of _how brilliant that was._ Boy, he really was unaware, wasn't he?

"You alright, love?", he asked, finally noticing her tear-stained face.

"I've got to go," she replied curtly.

"Oh," he said, and Angelina could almost make out hurt in his voice. "There's a clean towel on the door." _What a gentleman._

It would have been so much easier if she could just scourgify this whole mess. But, that's what she got for hooking up with a random muggle.

She dressed and made her way out of his flat to find a good spot to apparate. The street was bustling, even though it was well past midnight. She made her way through rowdy pub-goers and a group of scantily clad women on a hen-do. Unconsciously, she felt for her wand in her bag, her senses recently on high-alert. Even without death eaters on the run, it probably wasn't great for a woman to be wandering around muggle London, alone, in the middle of the night.

She finally found a quiet enough spot and apparated to her bedroom. It was nights like these that she was thankful for her own room in her shared flat. At first, she was a bit jealous of Alicia and Katie spending all of that time together, without her. But recently, she began to grow comfortable in the solitude. She walked to the door and pressed her ear against it. Silence. They were likely still at the pub, she should have been as well.

Lee had suggested that they go out _like the old days._ But it wasn't like the old days, was it? The group didn't seem to mind, however. They were desperate to drown out their sorrows; ease the pain a bit even if they were missing two very notable members. She could only kick herself for deciding to leave with the first muggle man to give her the time of day. Why hadn't she stayed with her friends? They were probably having a hell of a time celebrating- no, that's not right. Mourning? Either way, they were likely plastered and not feeling an ounce of pity as Angelina was.

It's not like one-night-stands were common for her. For Oliver, sure. Same for Fred…

Ugh.

She knew why she did it. She wanted someone to look at her without the overwhelming sadness and misery she was becoming so used to seeing. Tears swam in their eyes, even if they were talking about nothing of note. On top of that, everyone had to ask her how she was doing. How was she supposed to respond to that? It had only really been a few days, and she was already sick of it. Sick of feeling miserable. Sick of thinking of him at every moment. And of George. Poor George.

She took a swig of contraceptive potion and reached for the sleeping drought. At least it could give her some peace, if for an entirely too short amount of time.

* * *

The next morning (well afternoon really), Angelina found Alicia and Oliver sound asleep in the sitting room. She momentarily thought back to the first night that the girls had in their flat.

It was one of Angelina's favourite memories. They had just graduated Hogwarts, and she and Alicia decided to be _real_ adults and get their own place. Of course, they had to christen the flat with a do. It was the main group; Angelina, Alicia, Katie, Lee, Oliver, and the twins. Angelina and Alicia had spent hours decorating and trying to make it a proper adult party, fancy muggle wine and all. But, instead, it had snowballed into a wild night, as their parties tended to do.

They started out playing drinking games. Angelina was the only one who was sober by the time the twins announced they were going to break into the neighbour's pool. Of course, they all followed. It was hard to say no to the twins, especially once they set their mind on something. So they, not so silently, made their way to the next-door flat's pool. They magically unlocked they chain-link fence and stripped down to their pants and knickers. Thinking back, Angelina and Alicia could have easily changed into their swimsuits, which they had in their rooms. But, that was no fun, was it?

The almost-nudity of the group didn't help to break any sexual tension that was taking place. There had been plenty of in-dating in the group, mostly with Fred. He had dated Angelina briefly during the Yule Ball, snogged Katie, and hooked up with Oliver a time or two. There had been other unsuccessful relationships; George having gone with Alicia to the Yule Ball, (though they never really dated) and Lee trying desperately all of their seventh year to hook up with Angelina. By this time, Lee was well over her, and on the prowl.

So it was no surprise that as soon as they made it back to the flat, Oliver and Fred had excused themselves, not-so-inconspicuously, and apparated away together, presumably to one of their flats. The rest of them changed back into dry clothes and found themselves gathered in the sitting room, chatting and drinking until they fell asleep, one-by-one, on the various furniture that was scattered about the place. Angelina and Alicia could have excused themselves and gone to sleep in their beds, but there was something about being together that made them stay, even if it meant a night of uncomfortable sleep. If only they knew that it would be one of the last times that they would all be together.

The wooden floor creaked under Angelina's foot, and she was shaken out of her reverie. She headed over to the kitchen to make her _world renown_ hangover cure.

"Morning," said Alicia, having just woken from her slumber, stretching her arms dramatically as she made her way into the kitchen with Angelina.

"It's half-past 12," Angelina responded, with a smirk.

"Yeah, whatever," Alicia responded, grabbing a piece of bread, apparently not able to wait for Angelina's cooking. "Katie kicked us out of our room; you're so lucky you have your own."

Angelina smiled; _that_ was another reason she didn't mind having her own room.

"She's with _Lee,"_ Alicia said in a mock-scandalized tone.

"Oh," responded Angelina. That was undoubtedly a new development. She wasn't aware that Lee or Katie had feelings for one another. But, as they say; grief brings people together.

"Speaking of kinky sex…", Alicia started.

_Was that what we were talking about?_

"I'm surprised you're not still at that muggle blokes. He was well fit," Alicia said, wagging her eyebrows. "What happened?" Alicia asked, likely wanting to hear all of the details.

"Nothing came of it," Angelina responded, squashing Alicia's excitement.

"Nothing came of it, or you didn't?" Alicia teased.

"Both," said Angelina with a smile. She had finished making eggs and bacon and pushed a plate towards Alicia.

"There's no way I can eat that! I feel like I'm going to be sick at any moment," said Alicia, miming being sick for emphasis.

"Just eat it, it will help," said Angelina.

Oliver had woken up, apparently led to the kitchen by his nose.

"If you don't, I will," he said.

"Here," said Angelina, passing him a plate.

"Cheers," said Oliver, tucking into the fat-heavy breakfast.

"It's days like these," he said, in between bites, "that I think you've got the right idea", he said to Angelina. "Two-drink maximum. Seems mad in the moment, but the next day…"

Angelina shrugged and made herself a plate.

They ate in relative silence, the other two dealing with their hangovers and Angelina dealing with, well, whatever she was dealing with.

Before they could finish, there was a tap at their window. An owl hooted at them, begging to be let in.

Angelina went to the window and let the owl in, giving him a treat in exchange for the letter he held in his beak.

The envelope was addressed to herself, Alicia, and Katie, written in fancy scrawl.

She tentatively opened the letter, suspecting what it contained. As soon as she saw the first word, her heart sank. It was an invitation to Fred's funeral.

In three days.

It was so soon. He had just died. Angelina could still picture his body lying in the middle of the great hall, the smell of burnt wood and blood stinging her senses. At first, she had looked over at him in shock. She couldn't fathom that that was Fred's body. She was waiting for him to pop up and shout _just joking_ , or go on about a new WWW product that temporarily stops one's heartbeat. But that never happened. Instead, she stood there, staring, afraid to go any closer. Not just to see his body, but to see the ones around him, grieving so fiercely she was afraid she would be blown away by their passion. The howls of George's grief still echoed in her dreams.

How was she going to manage as they lowered his body into the ground? It would mean that it was over- that his life was over- the final act in his too-short life.


	2. Chapter 2- The Funeral

Angelina was on her third outfit of the morning; she couldn't decide what to wear to Fred's funeral. It was ridiculous; this wasn't even the first funeral she'd been to this week. Besides, it's not like anyone would be paying her any mind. And yet, she couldn't find the right thing to wear.

She stared at herself in her mirror, dressed in a simple black camisole dress. It was just like the other dresses she had tried on and was fine for a funeral. But it didn't feel right. She thought possibly it was because it was black. Black clothing could be fierce and beautiful, but for a funeral, it just felt sad. She didn't mind black in itself, in fact, it was a staple in her closet, much to her mum's dismay. Her mum would constantly admonish her for wearing black;  _ it wasn't flattering, she was meant to wear colours, not something so drab _ . And, as any rebellious child would do; she had only bought black clothes for years out of protest.

But it wasn't that. It was the entire idea of a funeral. Of darkness, and sadness, and misery. It simply wasn't Fred. He would have wanted something much more spectacular, full of celebration, and life.  _ No, that's not right either _ , she thought. He would have wanted to be alive.

She huffed at the thought, trying not to cry prematurely and decided that her outfit was good enough. She headed downstairs, where her friends were gathering to head to the solemn affair. One by one, the entered the slightly-too-small fireplace and floo'd to the burrow.

Fred was to be buried in the Weasley's back garden, next to their makeshift quidditch pitch. They had the option of burying him at Hogwarts, but since he wasn't the biggest fan of academics, the burrow felt like a better fit.

Time seemed to pass unevenly, Angelina moving through moments quickly and then ever so slowly. She knew that time had passed, as she was sitting between Oliver and Alicia on a pew, but she couldn't remember getting there. Then, she saw Fred's casket and it was like time stopped; she couldn't look away. She couldn't help but thank god that it was a closed casket. The idea of seeing him there, but not really t _ here _ , made her feel queasy.

The funeral began, and just like earlier, time sped by. Angelina had no idea what the minister was saying, she was only aware of her own breathing; unsteady and uneven. She couldn't help glancing at George throughout the procession. He stared blankly ahead, not reacting to what was being said or moving in the slightest. Normally, Angelina would be impressed; George was not one to sit still. But now- now it was painful to see. A part of her wished he was crying- feeling in some way, no matter how cruel the thought was. At least he would be present.

She was distracted from her concern over George when the ground started to lightly move. Her eyes were directed back to Fred's coffin, which was now slowly descending into the ground. She seized Oliver's hand, not sure that she could take the sight. It didn't help that the quiet sobs which were echoing the grounds were now full wails, mostly emitted from Molly.

Angelina found herself standing outside of the funeral tent with a glass of wine in her hand. She wasn't sure how she ended up with the wine, though she vaguely recalled leaving the tent, giving hugs and wishes to the Weasleys as she did. However, there was one Weasley who she didn't get to well-wish. George had barreled out of the tent the second the funeral was over, rushing out of the doors and into the unknown.

"Some of us are going to the Leaky," she heard Alicia say.

Angelina nodded her head absentmindedly, with no intention of joining them. She ached to get as far away from others as much as possible. All she wanted to do was curl into a ball and try to forget her reality.

"Someone should check on George," Angelina stated, as her friends were gathering to leave. She hoped that someone else would volunteer. As much as she cared for George, the thought of looking into his mournful eyes filled her with dread.

"I'll go," Lee volunteered. He was George's closest friends (outside of Fred), so it made sense that he would feel an obligation to help George. "I'll catch up with you later," he said to the group before turning to head into the burrow.

Alicia reached out to take Angelina's hand, but she shook it off.

"I'll join you guys later," Angelina lied.

Alicia looked concerned but nevertheless disapparated with the rest of her friends.

* * *

Angelina had been sitting on the back steps outside of the burrow for what felt like an eternity. It had been so long that the funeral workers were beginning to pack up the things from the funeral. Most of the Weasleys had headed back to the burrow or joined her friends at the pub. The only Weasley she that she didn't know the whereabouts of was George. She also didn't know where Lee was. For all she knew, he could have apparated away a while ago. He may not have even found George at all. The last she saw of Lee, he was heading into the burrow, and she knew she had to check. She had to check on George. Not that he was alright, she knew he wasn't, but that he was  _ okay _ . Not stuck somewhere unable to get out. Not splinched or injured or...

She made up her mind and stood, feeling dizzy as she did. After waiting minutes for the vertigo to pass, she headed through the back door of the burrow. At that moment, she felt like she had made a mistake.

She had been to the burrow before, over the long summer holiday, when it was sunny, bright, and full of life. Now, it felt like she was intruding. And she supposed she was technically intruding. The room was dark and uninviting; the exact opposite of what she remembered. There were no enchanted pots cooking, no red-headed people running around, no mess. Still, she had made her mind up, and now she was determined to find George.

So, she carefully tiptoed to the staircase, finally getting to George's door. Outside of his door sat Lee, who motioned for Angelina to join him.

"Now you've got to let me in," Lee said to the door. "Ange is here. Did you see what she was wearing?", he asked, as if Angelina wasn't sitting next to him. "A small slinky black thing. You know how I like my women in black."

Angelina shoved him playfully.

"If I wasn't seeing Katie...," he said in a mock-sad tone.

"You'd have no chance," Angelina responded, forgetting for a moment that a door rested between them and George.

"Well, if you don't let us in," Lee said, "I'm going to head out, I'm famished. Though you could always join me," he said, waiting for a response. Since there was none, he stood to leave.

"Bye mate, I'll see you soon," he said, his voice sounding dejected. "Bye Ange," he said before disapparating.

Now, Angelina was alone with George, not sure of what to do or say. She wasn't sure George was even in his room.

"Are you really there?", she asked. "Or do I need to have Lee checked out?" she added, trying to lighten the mood.

She heard nothing, she began to worry that she  _ was  _ talking to herself.

"I'm here," she heard, it sounded muffled, but it definitely came from George.

"Good," she said. "Do you want me to stay?", she asked cautiously. "Unlike Lee, I don't mind sitting on the floor."

Again, she didn't hear a response, and took the silence as him wanting her to leave, until she heard the click of his lock unlocking. She cautiously opened the door and was taken aback by the sight.

George's room was filled with dusty boxes, some stacked as tall as Angelina. There were so many, that Angelina didn't see George right away. She could just make out a lump on one of the beds, a tuft of ginger hair poking out of the covers.

"Hey," she said softly, to no response. Angelina continued to stand in the doorframe, unsure of what to do. After moments of consideration, she decided to make the trek to George's bed. It took athleticism to manoeuvre between the boxes. She almost tripped over one, and as she did something printed on top of it caught her eye. Leaning down, she had to squint in order to read the writing, as the room was dark with the curtains closed shut. She could make out a Weasley's Wizard Wheezes emblem on the box. She realised that the boxes were all from the shop, likely from when it was ransacked by death eaters and the twins had to sell discreetly from the burrow.

She finally made it to her friend's bedside and placed a hand on George's back. Since he didn't protest to her touch, she sat beside him, keeping her hand gently pressed to him. She didn't know what to say but thought perhaps she didn't need to say anything. George's breathing became uneven, and soon Angelina could tell he was crying. He did his best to hide it, shaking silently. She gently laid her head on his shoulder, facing away from him, and held him like that until the shaking stopped.

As difficult as it was, during that time, all of Angelina's desire to disappear- to be alone in her hopelessness, left her. She felt like here, with George, was where she was supposed to be. And, at that moment, she decided that she was going to focus on helping him- on making sure he didn't get lost in his sadness. He was her friend, and she was going to make sure he didn't go through this alone.


End file.
